


Strength of Mind

by knifecrew



Category: Original Work
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-12-31
Updated: 2013-12-31
Packaged: 2018-01-06 21:15:28
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,947
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1111604
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/knifecrew/pseuds/knifecrew
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The mind is a powerful thing.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Strength of Mind

**Author's Note:**

> Yet another oneshot I wrote when trying to deal with this horrid writer's block, as well as when I was going through some issues with my panic disorder. I have since got a handle on it, but the idea came from a story a gentleman told us in my therapy group. It was so vivid that I had to get it down. It's been edited by myself, but that's not saying much. Please let me know if I've missed anything!

Three—hand the ticket, walk in. Two—hand the ticket, walk in. One—hand the ticket, walk in.

He was next.

"Hello, sir." The attended flashed him a smile, reaching for his ticket. He handed it to her with the composure of a machine and swallowed a thick lump down his throat. The closer he came to the gate, the harder he could feel his heart hammering against his breast. At one point, he had considered turning around and walking out of the airport, but something in the back of his mind shouted ' _no_ '. The attendant handed the ticket back and wished him a good flight, though the words had gone straight in one ear and out the other. It took every ounce of his strength to bring one leg in front of the other, to do something as simple as walk down the jetway and in through the open door.

Another flight attendant stood at the opened door of the plane to greet him; a taller man clad in his airline uniform who wore a similar smile, but the gesture went ignored as the noise from the engines built and whirled loudly around them.  It hurt, stabbed in his chest.  He felt a coiling sensation grip his heart and the pain radiated down his left arm. He had experienced the feeling a few times prior and even landed himself in the emergency room once or twice because of it. A heart attack, he thought. He was certain his heart must be failing him, but they called it many things: pleurisy, costochondritis, before settling on panic attack.

"Excuse me, would you mind?" a voice said from behind, knocking him out of his thoughts. Without realizing, he had stopped in the middle of the row near the front of the plane having been waiting for a woman to clear out of the way. She had already taken her seat, unbeknownst to him, so he moved forward to find his own in coach.  He had requested an aisle seat knowing a glimpse out the window would tempt his panic.  Silently, he heaved a sigh of relief once he was sitting down.   _You've made it this far.  Just relax_ , he chanted over and over in his head.

From that point, it was all about his breathing, Dr. Kohl instructed:  _Breathe from the diaphragm_.  _In and out. Take the air in through your nose, expand your stomach, and let it out the same._ He closed his eyes and rested his head against the seat, palms flat on his abdomen. Sucking in one breath, his stomach expanded and the breath let out slowly. He repeated the technique until his heart no longer felt like it would explode, and for one precious, fleeting moment, he thought he had regained the upper hand. That is, until the captain's voice came over the speaker.

"Good afternoon everyone and welcome aboard flight 207.  If you would please refer to the safety card in the pocket of the seat in front of you, the flight attendants will be demonstrating safety procedures at the front of the cabin before our departure today. We appreciate your attention to this important safety information as we finish the last of our checks." When the microphone clicked and the captain stopped speaking, one of the flight attendants took over.

"If you are seated in an aisle seat," the brunette attendant said, "you may be required to assist our crew in the event of an emergency landing."

All around him, the sound of seatbelts buckling echoed in the fuselage.  Passengers and flight attendants helped to stow away any loose items before takeoff or had their full attention up front. It all seemed foreign to him. Almost ten years had passed since his last flight, and that incident ended in tears. How humiliating, he thought, but the tingling sensation in his hands returned full force and it was getting worse. First the chest pain, now this.

The brunette attendant continued. "If you are unable to perform the functions illustrated on the safety card, please notify myself or one of the other flight attendants after this demonstration." A pause and she went on. "To fasten your seat belt, keep it low and tight across your lap. Insert the metal fitting into the buckle. Tighten the belt by pulling on the end of the strap. To release the belt, lift the metal buckle flap where the two straps join."

The man beside him did that, tightening his own seatbelt while he had zeroed in on his heart. It was racing again, hammered hard against in his chest as it had before at the gate. Through his left arm, a burning sensation radiated from the shoulder, down into his fingers. Now, his toes and the bottom of his feet tingled in adjunct. They were damp with sweat.

"When the seat belt sign is illuminated, please be seated and buckled," the flight attended said. "To ensure your safety, your seat belt should be buckled at all times when you are seated."

_Oh my God_ , he thought and closed his eyes. His breath came out in shallow pants.  His stomach churned at the thought of what was to follow. Although still sitting at the gate, he knew they were ready to pull back and taxi to the runway. Under his feet, the plane shuddered and jerked them backward. His heart nearly jumped out of his mouth and his eyes shot open wide. The man to his left shot a curious glance, a bit surprised by his reaction, but he ignored it.

_Calm down_ , he told himself.  _You're fine. We're not even off the ground yet_.

It didn't help.

Nothing seemed to.

Fingers dug into the padding of the arm rest. His eyes followed the back of the seat in front of him, tracing the retro angular patterned lines and down the aisle to where another flight attendant walked by. She was checking to make sure everyone had their seat belts buckled. The brunette flight attendant at the microphone continued.

"There are six exit doors on this Boeing 737—three on each side of the airplane—and two located at the wings." Her words were muffled now, as if his ears had somehow filled with water. The sensations coursing through his veins could have been mistaken for drowning. He felt trapped, unable to breathe, suffocating almost. The plane shifted though not because it was moving. It had stopped in order to allow another aircraft to pass by. Suddenly struck with vertigo, he could not tell which way was up and which way was down.

Muffled, the voice went on. _"_ Each exit is equipped with an  _evacuation slide which will deploy in case of an emergency landing… Look around to locate the two exits near your seat…"_

" _Sir, you need to buckle your belt. We'll be taking off soon," the blonde flight attendant said._  
  
 _"I can't--"_

"… _Excuse me?" The flight attendant stared at him, confused by his response. She stepped back when he grabbed the seat in front of him to hoist himself up. "Sir, sit down. We'll be taxiing down the runway in a few moments."_

_"I need to get off the plane," he told her, trying to move into the aisle only to be blocked by her body._

" _Sit down, sir. You_ cannot _get off the plane. We've already taxied away from the gate."_

_"_ MOVE," _he howled, trying his best not to lunge out and push her aside.  He would try with his words, but she wasn't listening.  No one was listening.  No one could feel the sick churning in the pit of his gut, nor could they see how his body shivered even in the warm ambiance of the crowded fuselage._

_"Please do not raise your voice, sir.  You_ need _to sit down," she repeated firmly, but his outburst had attracted the attention of the male flight attendant who had come to assist.  Before the male flight attendant could settle beside his female co-worker, he lashed out, pushing forward in an attempt to step into the aisle._

_The female flight attendant stumbled backward, landing on the lap of a male passenger who grabbed at her waist to break her fall. The commotion gained the attention of even more people, and now most eyes were on him. Most sat back and stared, too frightened to say or do anything.  Others watched with a fascination he recognized, but his focus was not on their gazes_ or _the brightness of the cell phone screen that was videotaping him._

_With the woman down, and her legs blocking the aisle, he made a break for it.  One man, however, near the front of the cabin, stood and blocked the aisle until the male flight attendant could reach for and grab hold of him._

" _Calm down," the passenger said forcefully. Both his arms were restrained, and all he could do was make a feeble attempt to writhe out of their grasp._

_Around him, people climbed into their chairs, standing on their knees to watch the spectacle, to watch him kicking and hollering at the top of his lungs. He was so close to the door and yet so far away. If he could break free and keep going, maybe he could get the damn thing open…_

"Sir?"

He flinched at the voice from above and glanced up. The blonde flight attended--her nametag read Cindi--had stopped at his row and was leaning down so as not to raise her voice. From the looks of it, she was uninjured and the rest of the cabin was calm as if nothing had happened. Had it been his imagination?

"We'll be taxiing soon," she said with a smile, "so please buckle your seat belt."  Cindi moved on once she relayed the message and continued checking her side of the plane.

He settled back in his chair, taking a few moments to gather himself. This was the first time in a long while he had been on a plane, and the first time for such a violent bout of panic. Perhaps the doctor was wrong. Perhaps panic disorder was in fact schizophrenia, what, with the hallucination that had played out in his mind.  If he could pull someone aside and explain the situation, maybe he get off the plane.   _No_ , he thought.  It was nothing more than an illusion, a fabrication of what could have played out but hadn't.  He wouldn't dare dream of hurting anyone. It was not in his nature.

A few moments of careful consideration and he loosened his grip on the armrests, knuckles white from the pressure. His hands, shaking as they were, moved slowly, grabbing one end of the seat belt and then the other. The two parts came together with a click and tightened around his lap.  _One step at a time_ , he told himself.

He closed his eyes again.

He acknowledged the pain in his chest, shooting through his back and into his arm. He noticed, in the midst of things, that his stomach was churning.  Any movement would send him scrambling about for an air sickness bag, but most importantly, he focused on his breath. In and out. Slow at first, holding it for a few seconds before letting it out.  That had calmed, and it was a moment of progress, at least.

The plane shuddered again, vibrated under his seat.

Over the intercom, the flight attendant spoke. She had completed the in-flight safety demonstration without him knowing.  "On behalf of the flight crew," she continued, smiling across the cabin, "it is our pleasure to have you aboard with us today and we hope you enjoy your flight."  
  
 _Click_.


End file.
